


You Get a Logan, You Get a Logan, Everybody Gets a Logan!

by orphan_account



Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin, Gilmore Girls, Veronica Mars (TV), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: All the Logans, Alternate Universe, Angst, Cuddling, F/M, Gen, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Out of Body Experiences
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 04:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9802229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Inspired by a Twitter conversation, this fic imagines what happens if we take some of the greatest Logans in pop culture and mix them up to hilarious, touching, sexy, and possibly tragic results.Because, really, there are some GREAT Logans in the world.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I ABSOLUTELY did not come up with this idea, but once it was come up with, I had to try my hand at writing it!

The first thing Logan did when he woke up was look at his hands. It’d been that way for years. However, today there was a new development - rather than scarred, weathered skin covered in his predictable brown hair, he was looking at pale, smooth hands at least two decades younger than they had any right to be.

At that exact moment, his phone rang. Looking around, he realized that he was hearing it down the hall. He was about to venture out of the room when he heard a soft, feminine voice pick up on the other end. There was some muffled conversation, a light trill of giggle, and the phone clicked. He heard his name called in a voice he didn’t recognize.

“Logan, honey. It was Mary Anne! She said she’s going to be babysitting for the Miller’s tonight, but she would really like to see you sometime before that. If you get your room clean like we talked about, you should take your dad’s car to pick her up. I’m sure he won’t mind after the grade you got on your last chemistry test.”

Logan shook his head, not sure he’d heard right. He sure as shit didn’t know anyone named Mary Anne, hadn’t ever taken a chemistry class in his life, and, come to think of it, was old enough not to need his father’s permission to do, well, anything.

And then it crashed into his chest like a freight train. He scrambled to the bathroom attached to the bedroom and stifled his inner groan at the face staring back at him. ‘Not again,’ he thought, reaching up to scratch his stubble the way he always did when thinking. Only, there was no stubble. Because the Logan staring back at him was seventeen, blonde, and definitely hadn’t ever set foot on a battlefield.

James Logan, meet Logan Bruno.

*

‘Is that...bacon?’ The first thoughts in Logan’s mind were almost always of food. If not the kind of food, then how long it has been since he’d had food, or what kind of food he needed to pick up to make other food that sounded better.

It wasn’t the smell of bacon, though. A few more seconds passed and the sensation of pain finally caught up to Logan’s mind, and his stomach roiled with the unsaid understanding that the smell was, well, him.

His eyes popped open and he found himself strapped to a metal slab, angled enough that he could see out the small glass window in the door in front of him. Not that there was much to see - a couple of soldiers with their backs turned, from the look of the uniforms and guns. Logan was just about to open his mouth and cry out when the door swung open.

In walked a round, orange-faced man with surprisingly small hands, flanked on either side by much larger, scarier men in lab coats. Without speaking, one of them crossed behind the bench Logan was standing on, while the other began to prod the open lascerations covering his chest. That had been the pain - and the smell - that had woken Logan up. Tears immediately sprang to his eyes, and the small man laughed coldy, and cruely.

“What’s happening to me,” Logan asked him, his tone pleading.

“Come now, James. Do we really have to do this again?”

“James? My name is Logan.” The man inspecting his wounds punched him in the ribs without warning, the breath pushed from his body in an ughf.

“Oh, I thought we’d learned our lesson about that? People who interfere with the Logan Act, deliberately sheltering dangerous foreign nationals in direct defiance of MY ORDERS don’t get to chose their own nicknames.” Logan desperately wanted to wipe the tears - and this other man’s spittle - from his face, but his hands strained needlessly against his bonds.

Logan Bruno, meet James Logan. Also known as the terrifying patriot and infamous mutant, Wolverine.

*

“Hey, Logan mate. You need to wake up. We’re getting ready to board.” Logan’s opened one eye and did his best to smirk through sleep. “Aw, what a sweet invitation Keith. But we both know I’m not going on a vacation with you without Veronica.”

The man just looked at him, stretching the silence until Logan opened his eyes more fully, worried this time his flippancy had really gotten him into it. Which, it would have, except for the part where the man who’d kicked his foot wasn’t Keith. And this definitely wasn’t Logan Airport. Looking around, if he’d had to put money on it, he would have guessed JFK? Maybe Newark? What the fuck was he doing in New York?

“Um, Logan?” He spun to see a thin brunette sitting next to him. She was thin, and a little pale, but was pretty enough. Only, when he’d fallen asleep it’d been pert and perky Veronica next to him. “Who’s Veronica?”

“My girlfriend. Who are you?” The answer came out fast, his brain too busy trying to comb through the details of how he had apparently fallen asleep in Logan Airport, getting ready to fly back to California with his FINALLY girlfriend before the semester started, and then woken up in New York next to a perfectly pretty stranger.

The brunette cleared her throat and looked at the tall man who’d kicked Logan.

“Finn, are you sure he’s alright? The doctor said he might still be too concussed to fly home.”

“I’m sure, sweets. The Life and Death Brigade always seens medical opinions as more opinion than medical, anyway.” The brunette smiled before turning a patient, slightly condesending smile towards Logan.

“Logan, sweetie. It’s me. Rory. And Finn. You had an accident skiing with Honor upstate, and we came to get you. I’m your fiance.”

Logan Echolls, meet Logan Huntzberger. 

*

“Leave it alone, dad. Please”

“Sorry, honey. You know I can’t do that. If he’s going to insist on sitting by the window, I’m going to have to take the middle.”

“...your elbows?”

“You know they’ve never been the same, ever since that tennis pro needed her client investigated”. Logan stirred at the frustrated sigh. He flipped in his seat, his eyes still closed, and snuggled up to the body next to him.

“Logan. I had no idea you felt that way.” The voice was male, which was enough. Logan opened his eyes and met the gaze of...a bald man he’d never seen before. He sat up a little straighter and looked around, confused.

“Where am I?”

“Still Logan Airport. Our flight was delayed,” said the blonde girl sitting on the floor at his feet. She was sorting through the lenses in a camera bag. She looked at him and smiled, grasping his ankle with a reassuring pressure. “Don’t worry. We won’t miss the start of the year. I know how imporant school is for you.” There was a familiar irony in that last bit that felt oddly familiar.

“School?”

“You know. Big buildings, really close together? Sometimes people will say smart things towards you and you have to repeat them back?” The bald man next to him was interjecting again. Logan looked at him, unsure of how to tell him to kindly back the fuck off this very weird conversation he was having.

“Dad,” the blonde said as she got to her knees and wrapped her hands around Logan’s waist, slipping her body between his thighs and playing at with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Leave it alone, okay?” A look passed between the blonde and the bald and, with a quick nod of his head, the man stood and paced off, his hands deep in his pockets. “Sorry about that,” the blonde said quietly. “He’s doing his best to come around after Beaver - sorry, Cassidy - but he’s protective of his daughter.” She kissed him slowly and deeply. “He’ll get there eventually. Promise.”

“Who are you,” he asked incredulously? 

She just giggled and squeezed him tighter.

Logan Huntzberger, meet Logan Echolls, asshole Cassanova of Neptune Heights, survivor of recent high school maniac, and super, super fucked.


End file.
